Out of the Cold
by TutorGirlml
Summary: A Christmas-y three shot featuring Emma, Killian and Henry... After seeing something he wasn't prepared for, Henry runs out into a snowstorm leaving his family hoping they will find him in time. AU after episode 3x11, but hopefully a unique Captain Swan plot for the holidays... (K might have been fine, but I went with T just to be safe.)
1. Chapter One

_Okay folks, so here's my first attempt at Christmas fiction in the "Once Upon A Time" fandom. It could have fit into the show's timeline and events up until the winter finale; it seems it has now been rendered AU though. I still hope you enjoy it and would really love to hear anyone's thoughts and comments once they have read. I don't think it will be very long – about three chapters. I have some other Christmas ideas floating around, and I hope I can get them written before the holidays. Anyway, without further stalling, I still don't own them, and Happy Reading!_

Out of the Cold

By: TutorGirlml

_Chapter One: Christmas Cookies and Confessions_

Emma Swan realizes much later that she should have known things were going too well, her world unusually calm, and she should have been expecting the next disaster to upset it. As it was though, she was merely enjoying the peaceful lull after a hard-fought victory – for the first time in her life, she was getting used to a cozy home and her own family to celebrate the Christmas holiday with. Storybrooke Elementary had let out for the winter break the day before, and the previous evening she and Henry had cuddled up on the couch together after hanging their stockings – sipping hot cocoa and watching the lights twinkle on their tree. Outside snow was covering the world in a white blanket, and even now, at noon the next day, it is still falling silently. She could just make out the glowing twinkle lights that Marco has strung along the awning of his shop across the street and the shimmer of the antique crystal tree that sits in the window display of Gold's pawn shop, both reflecting off the unending sea of white.

It doesn't escape her for one second how very lucky they've been. Henry had been kidnapped, rescued, then trapped in another body in Pandora's Box, then almost separated from everyone he knew and desperately needed by a second curse. Sometimes, Emma has to pinch herself upon realizing that her little boy is still here with them, she has her parents, her friends, a place she belongs, and finally, a chance for the life she has always wanted. That Henry knows her, that he is returning to his old self, that he will let her hold and mother him sometimes, and that he can still smile with an innocence and joy that warms her heart, is all the Christmas gift she will ever need for the rest of her life.

This afternoon, their project is baking Christmas cookies. The warmth from the oven cozily heats the whole small apartment Emma rents; Christmas carols waft cheerily in the air from the iPod speaker dock, and she can't help laughing merrily with Henry as he glances up from rolling out more dough and playfully flicks flour at her. Brushing it off her sleeve, she smirks back at him and dusts it onto the tip of his nose. Soon, the cookie cutting and icing devolves into a flour fight as they grab pinches of the white powder off the counter and throw it at each other – ducking, yelping and slipping on the linoleum floor as they do.

"Oi! What's happening here?" a jovial, masculine voice calls out over their ruckus, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing in the next room. "Where are you lot?" Killian must have gotten off work at the docks with Eric early – with all the snow they are getting, there can't be many people wanting to go out fishing or sailing. Smiling for just a moment, Emma can picture him in the entryway, kicking off his boots and shaking snow out of his disheveled, jet-black hair.

She and Henry don't give up the flour attack, but instead they lock eyes and silently agree to join forces against the newcomer. Both gather two huge handfuls of the powdery white ingredient and creep to opposite sides of the kitchen arch.

Emma grins at her son evilly, loving the mischievous twinkle in his eye that she gains in response. "In here!" she calls out to Killian, fighting to sound normal. "We're making Christmas cookies!"

They hear him moving closer. "That explains why it smells so wonderful in here," he is saying as he entered, "but what was all the nois—"

At that moment, he is interrupted by the bombarding white cloud that hits him full in the face and from both sides as he steps into the kitchen. Sputtering and coughing as he manages to breathe flour up his nose and down his throat, his words are effectively cut off.

Henry falls bonelessly on the floor laughing, and Emma isn't much better off – doubled over at the waist, hands braced on her thighs, wheezing for breath she's laughing so hard at the priceless, shocked look on his face. Their pirate captain does not stay stunned for long, and he is soon chasing them both around the kitchen island, snarling and vowing revenge on them for teaming up against him. Emma and Henry shriek in mock fear and slip-slide between the spilt flour and their sock feet on the slick surface, and it isn't long before all three of them end up in a tangled heap of arms and legs, panting for air on the floor.

It's at this moment, as Emma moves to sit up, ruffles Henry's hair and, still chuckling easily, catches Killian's eyes over her son's head. The sensation is akin to being caught in an electric fence; her nerve synapses fire that violently. His eyes are so blue that they radiate like a neon sign, and she is frozen for a second, the breath stolen from her lungs. Obviously snared in the moment as well, Emma watches him try unsuccessfully to blink or look anywhere else. Finally, blushing and heated all over, she draws in a shaky breath and forces her own eyes away, focusing back on Henry.

"Alright, kid," she urges, scrambling back onto her feet and pulling him along with her, "bath, bed, and lights out when you're done. Your dad's picking you up early tomorrow to take you sledding."

Henry nods excitedly, and then looks up at her, curious hope in his eyes. "Are you coming too? You could, you know. Dad won't mind."

Studiously, Emma avoids sending another glance Killian's way, not wanting Henry to catch onto the current between them, nor for Killian to feel any guilt over something that was finished long ago, whether he would have come along or not. She sighs, hoping Henry will in time figure out and accept that though she and Neal both love him and share him pleasantly, she will not be falling back into the couple that they once were just to make him happy. Carefully, she simply says, "No, not tomorrow. I have to check in at the station and finish up my shopping before you get back."

Henry, to his credit, only appears disappointed for a second, then with a hug for her and one for Killian, heads down the hall to get ready for bed.

Once he is gone, and they can hear dresser drawers open and shut and the bath water begin to run, Emma lets her eyes wander back to her pirate's face. They study each other heatedly from across the room as seconds tick by and she feels her heart beat faster and faster. Then Killian's eyes darken, smoldering dangerously, and he starts to move toward her, the gaze he rakes over her positively predatory. It is mesmerizing how those cerulean pools can shade to almost indigo with desire when he turns them on her, and she could near down in their depths. "Now, Love," he murmurs, coming nearer and nearer, the way he is stalking her making Emma want to back away, except that her legs have turned to jelly and her knees are locked. Her breath goes fast and shallow as she tries to hold his stare, but she feels bared and her heart flutters nervously, aching to look away. "You're going to pay for that little stunt," he murmurs, while his mouth quirks up at one corner, his expression positively devilish.

Emma can't help the breathy quality in her voice when she attempts to answer and can only hope that it will play into the charade they're engaging in. He has stolen the rest of the air from her lungs. She bites her bottom lip coyly and gazes up at him innocently from under her lashes, murmuring, "Well, you see, I can explain…" She lets her words trail off, seeing the way he swallows hard and fights to stay in control.

"Doesn't matter," he growls, his voice low and rumbling in his chest, "you won't be getting off that easily." He suddenly closes the distance left between them in one fell swoop, pushing her back until they come to a stop against the wall. She lets out a whoosh of air at the sudden impact and brings her hands up to touch his face, only to have him capture them both in his good hand and pin them above her head. She gives a frustrated whimper of protest at not getting to touch him before he dips his head to finally capture her lips with his and swallows any other noise she might make. The feel of his warm, demanding mouth overwhelms her, sending a shudder all along her body; she fights his hold on principle for just a moment, then with a sigh of pleasure, melts into his embrace. His hook comes to rest with gentle pressure at her hip, keeping her right where he wants her, and Emma can only marvel once more at how seamlessly he wields it, as if the metal appendage has always been a part of him.

The fire that kindles between them is immediate and engulfing. Emma finds herself ravenous for more, not sure how she has managed to wait so long to kiss him since the last time they were able to steal a moment alone. Killian won't let her move, holds her hostage, his stubble scratching over her skin, his teeth nipping her lips, taking her over completely and altogether. They have made a decided effort not to act like a couple in front of Henry, to make sure he is happy and settled and well before introducing their relationship to him. Henry has been through a lot, been through trauma and adjustments enough; neither Killian nor Emma want to spring this on him if he might react negatively. They are both in this for the long haul – committed to being there for each other – and hope that Henry will accept their partnership. Though Killian often spends the evening with them, has supper with them, joins them for a movie, or – interestingly enough – adeptly helps Henry with his homework, he has never stayed overnight, not even sneakily once Henry has already gone to sleep. They do not want to hide this from him – only to make sure he will be alright. It is only on nights when Henry is staying with Regina that Emma will slip away down to the docks and spend the night with Killian on the Jolly Roger, lulled to the most peaceful sleep she has ever known by the rocking of the waves and his encircling arms.

"Killian, I-" she finally breaks away enough to pant out, "I need a minute. We'd better take a breath."

He allows her hands free, catching his own breath as well, but then he whirls and catches her again, having somehow gotten his hand on a bit of the leftover cookie dough. Chuckling, he smears it across her cheek, down her neck and over her collarbone, then darts forward to playfully follow the sugary-sweet trail and lick it away.

Emma is giggling at his ticklish "payback" and laughingly swatting at him to back off, even as he sends delicious little shivers skittering over her skin, when they hear the sound of feet pounding down the stairs. Henry skids back into the room, asking, "Hey Mom, do you care if…?"

They freeze, caught, as Henry's question trails off unfinished. Emma flicks her eyes briefly to Killian's – hopeful, apologetic, and a bit frightened all at once. Holding her breath, she turns to face her son, praying for the best and hoping she will find the right words to say.

"What's going on?" Henry asks suspiciously, not by any means stupid and intending to get to the bottom of what he is seeing. "Are you guys _together_?"

Emma nods silently, not ever intending to tell him another lie. She is gathering herself to explain, but Henry speaks again before she can.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he questions, a look of such hurt appearing on his face that it breaks her heart.

She moves toward him, hoping to wrap her arms around him, but he steps out of her reach. "Henry, I wanted to. I did. But, Killian means a lot to me, and I wanted to make sure you were ready…that you'd understand…"

Realization dawns on the boy's face and his eyes cloud over, anger filling them as he bursts out, "Wait! Is this why you won't give Dad a second chance?! Why you'll never go with us when I invite you? Don't you want us to be a family?"

Emma reaches for him again, beseeching him now. "Henry, yes, more than anything, but not the family you seem to think…"

Henry's having none of it though, just now gathering steam. He rounds on Killian, eyes flashing. "And you! How could you? You're supposed to be a good guy now! I thought you were my friend! You're ruining my family!"

Killian casts his eyes to the floor, not even trying to argue with Henry. Emma knows that those words hurt him – on more levels than one, knowing his past – and her heart breaks again for the man she loves, but going to him now will only make things worse.

"Henry, please…" she tries to calm him down, make things okay again. Her world was so perfect only minutes ago, and now the peace has been hopelessly shattered.

"No!" he yells, backing out of the room. "I don't want to talk to either of you right now. Leave me alone!" He turns on his heel and makes his escape. He darts from the kitchen and toward the front door, barely pausing to jerk his coat roughly from the hook. Emma hurries, trying to catch him, tears already sliding down her cheeks at the way it has all fallen apart. She isn't fast enough though, and Henry is gone – slamming out of their apartment and into the snow.


	2. Chapter Two

_And so we continue… I do hope those who are reading are enjoying this story so far. I really appreciate the reviews I received; keep letting me know what you're thinking as we go along. I don't own them, but I can't help wanting to play with their likenesses in my writing! _

_Enjoy!_

Out of the Cold

_Chapter Two: Lost in the Snow_

"It _will _be alright, Lass," Killian murmurs gently a few moments later as the tears break free in earnest and she buries her face in his solid shoulder.

She shakes her head 'no' and draws in a shuddering breath. "I'm not sure it will… What was I thinking? We should have just told him. What if I've ruined everything, Killian?"

"Nonsense, Darling," his voice soothes her, even as she knows he must be equally worried and hurt inside. His hand brushes gently through her hair, and his other arm wraps around her, holding her close. "Once he steps out in that wind and snow, he'll be back before you know it. Besides, Emma, you're his mother. He loves you."

She sighs, looking up at him, eyes pleading for an answer he doesn't possess. "But I want him to love you too. I don't want to choose between you."

"It won't come to that, Love. He'll calm down. He's a smart lad. When he's thinking straight again, he'll understand."

She closes her eyes, forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath. "I hope you're right," she whispers on the exhale, letting her forehead rest against his, drawing comfort from his presence.

They stay that way a few minutes more, but when Henry doesn't return, Emma grows anxious, needing to do something, and Killian seems disconcerted despite himself as well.

"Maybe we should go after him," she wonders aloud. "He obviously hasn't let go of this yet, and you said yourself that it was really starting to come down out there."

Killian nods in agreement, noticing that she is already going towards her own hat, mittens, and coat. "Of course, Emma, but should we first call your parents? They're only a short walk away, and he may have holed up there to get out of the snow without returning here."

She nods, acknowledging that he may be right and moves toward the phone instead of the coatrack. She hits the speed dial programmed number, then waits practically vibrating with tension until Mary Margaret answers cheerily, "Charming residence. May I help you?"

If Emma were in a better, less panicked state of mind, she would giggle at how "charming" and fanciful her friend really does sound, but now is definitely not that time. She hates to ruin what sounds like a perfectly pleasant night on the other end of the line, but she doesn't have a second to lose with niceties. "Is Henry there? It's Emma," she blurts out anxiously.

"Henry? No. Why would he be?"

Emma sucks in a breath, her head spinning even more at the knowledge that her son is absolutely out in the weather somewhere. Running a frustrated hand through her hair, trying to calm the shaking that has invaded her limbs, she shoots a quick glance over at Killian and shakes her head, confirming both of their worst fears without words. He immediately moves, gathering her boots, gloves, scarf, hat, and coat and bringing the clothing to her to put on as she finishes talking with her mother. He then begins to bundle up himself, attuned to her side of the phone conversation as well – always alert, taking everything in.

"He walked in on Killian and I kissing," she explains sheepishly, another lone tear trickling down her cheek as she relives it again. Killian moves toward her to pull her close, offer comfort, but she waves him off, not having time to break and knowing that she will if he holds her. "He was angry, stormed out. I know it's still snowing, and so I was hoping he had just gone to your house…"

"Emma, I hate to tell you this, but it's not _just _snowing. It's turned into blizzard conditions out there – a true whiteout. The radio has been cautioning people to stay indoors for the last hour; there's nothing but white, you can't see, and people run the risk of getting lost and – " Emma hears the other woman stutter, and her heart lurches even more painfully in fear, "and freezing to death before they find their way."

"Oh no, oh no…" Emma whispers repeatedly, unable to say anything else. "We have to find him. Have to…" she trails off without saying goodbye and hangs up on her mother's cries of protest and concern.

Killian knows immediately that something has changed for the worse in their already bad situation. "What is it, Darling?" he asks, his voice husky with concern – for her, and for Henry, whom he loves as his own, Emma realizes once more with a flicker of warmth for her pirate in her chilled-with-fear heart.

"It's turned into a whiteout…" she murmurs, almost incoherent for a moment. "No one's supposed to be out…too dangerous…"

"Well then, we've not a moment to lose, have we?" he urges, placing a hand at her elbow, to nudge her out of her trance and move her into action. She snaps out of it quickly, shooting him a grateful smile and moving for the door. He pulls her back for just a moment, squeezing her shoulder in comfort and pressing a chaste kiss to her brow. "We _will_ find him, Lass," he promises.

88888888~~~~~~~****************~~~~~~88888888~~~~~~~************~~~~~8888888888888

Two hours later, Emma's spirits have fallen to the point that she feels she might sink to her knees in the snow and never get up. Her limbs are so numb from the cold that she can't feel them beyond the heavy weight that makes them seem almost impossible to even lift and move forward. She can see nothing but the bit of blue of Killian's toboggan right before her, and she is certain that if he were to loosen the grip he holds on her hand that she will not even have that – just white, white, white in an endless, desolate void.

If Killian weren't so stubbornly determined, she might have turned back several times. They should have called for help, organized volunteers, alerted rescue services. She hadn't been thinking straight, simply desperate to get out and find Henry. Though Hook has adjusted well to their world in many respects, he didn't know to do any of those things and had gone right along with her, throwing caution to the wind. Now, she wonders if they can even find their own way back, and they are no closer to finding Henry than they were when they first set out.

She pulls back on Killian's hand, bringing him to a standstill as he turns to look back at her quizzically. Emma feels the surprising, overwhelming affection that often strikes her for him surge within her now. Despite the fact that he must be nearly as frightened, worried, and cold as she is, despite how bad things look, Killian still has the light of hope in his eyes; buoying her up just when she is ready to give in, to tell him they have to turn back, they aren't doing any good, they must be going the wrong way. "Should we go back for reinforcements?" she asks meekly, instead of what she had been about to say. She has to speak around such a huge lump in her throat that it feels as though the words might not make it to him audibly at all; it is too present in her mind how cold and alone Henry must be.

"We're too far out. It's been too long," Killian says, his accent clipped with tension. "By the time we find people and get them back out here, there will be no use."

He doesn't elaborate, and she tries not to connect what she knows he is telling her if they don't find Henry and get him out of the cold soon. Killian turns to press on again, not willing or able to give up and accept defeat. They begin fighting forward once more through the wind and whirling snow, and Emma finds herself even more desperately searching for anything beyond dense, blinding white to meet her eyes. She clings to Killian's hand tightly, drawing from his strength – relying on him – more than she ever thought she would allow herself to rely on anyone ever again.

Suddenly, Killian's frame straightens up, as if jerking to attention. He peers forward with such concentration that Emma can feel the tension radiating down his arm, and she finds herself straining to see what he is seeing. She is about to give in and ask him what it is, when he pulls her forward again with him, breaking into the closest thing to a stumbling run they can manage in the ever-deepening snow. "There was a flash of red there! It might be Henry's scarf!"

Just as he gets the words said, Emma catches a momentary glimpse of the color as well, letting out a gasp of shock and suddenly almost passing Killian up as they both try to reach their first sign of Henry in hours. Finally, they near a large, old tree which almost looks to be leaning its bare, gnarled branches shelteringly over a bundle which suddenly comes clear as Henry, slumped motionless against its trunk. His red scarf is luckily visible, as is some of his dark coat and snow-dusted brown hair, but his legs and torso are half-blanketed frighteningly in snow. It is terrifying to realize that much longer and they wouldn't have seen him at all.

Emma falls to her knees, sinking into the white powder as well, shaking his shoulder and calling his name. Killian's presence right beside them is the only thing keeping her sane as he bends to place his ear against Henry's chest to listen.

"It's faint, but he's breathing," Killian reports quickly, already brushing snow off the boy and gathering Henry's limp form in his arms before standing to carry him back. "Emma, stay close," he orders, tone desperately serious and not brooking any argument. "We've got to get him warm as fast as possible, but it's still well-nigh impossible to see more than a foot in front of us. Hang onto my coat or something. I don't want to lose you too."

Not so long ago, she would have argued with him, convinced that she could handle herself and didn't need his help or guidance, but now she doesn't even think twice. She trusts him not only with her life, but with Henry's as well, which is worth even more to her. They are heading back as quickly as they can, and Emma marvels briefly at his unerring sense of direction, something which must be left over from his long life at sea traveling the world. It is all she can do to stay out of Killian's path and not reach out to take Henry herself and hold him close. He hasn't stirred or given any indication that he even knows they have found him. It makes Emma's breath catch in fear. All she can do is continue thinking, "Hold on, kid. Hang in there. You're going to be okay. You have to be…"

Killian keeps moving forward, strong and sure, and she tries to hold onto her newly acquired hope. Her first real Christmas with those she loves can't end this way. Now is the first time she is truly going to wish for a little bit of magic.


	3. Chapter Three

_Merry Christmas to all of you out there! Hope your holidays have been happy and warm. I meant to get this posted yesterday, but better a day late than never I suppose. This chapter finishes things up in nice, fluffy, happy ending style. Enjoy, and once more, I'd love to hear what you think when you've finished reading. I do not own the show or the characters; though if I could have gotten Killian for Christmas, I would never have asked for anything else again! ;)_

Out of the Cold

_Chapter Three: A Little Bit of Holiday Magic_

By the time they reach Emma and Henry's apartment again, Emma is nearly beside herself. Henry hasn't spoken or opened his eyes during their whole journey – has barely even stirred – and she is desperate with the prayer that they aren't too late and can bring him around. She feels helpless as Killian carries her little boy and she can do nothing more to help, just follow, clinging to Henry's cold, limp hand.

When they get to her front door, Emma runs ahead to unlock it, only for the doorknob to turn easily under her hand. Confused, she pushes in and opens the door wide for Killian to come through with Henry. Once that is done, she glances around and realizes that she should not have been surprised. Her parents are already there, and have obviously resolved to do all they can to be ready for Henry's return – their faith never failing to astound Emma.

David quickly steps forward to take Henry from Killian, and Killian lets him with a grateful nod of acceptance, leaning against the back of the couch for a moment, obviously drained from both exertion and worry.

"David!" Snow calls from the entryway of the kitchen. "Get him out of those wet clothes and into the thermal pajamas I laid out there!" She enters the room laden with three already prepared hot water bottles, and as David settles his newly re-dressed grandson into the nest of blankets they have readied on the couch, right in front of the roaring fireplace, Snow tucks the hot water bottles at Henry's feet and against both of his sides before pulling the covers up to his chin. The dark-haired woman wistfully brushes the fringe of Henry's bangs to one side, off of his forehead, before standing and then quickly coming to wrap Emma in a soothing, motherly embrace, seeing that her daughter is shaking with unshed tears and about to break.

Killian is informing David of how they found Henry, how still he has been, and they are trying to figure out what else should be done – if they need to call Whale, if Regina must be notified, or if they merely need to keep him warm and pray for the best. David clasps Killian's shoulder in a grateful, wordless 'thank you' and show of support. The prince cannot go without thanking the other man for risking his own safety to bring his daughter and grandson back home, and it nearly undoes Emma all over again.

She can't find words or thoughts to even join in their discussion of the proper next step. All she can see is Henry, lying so still that she fears for a second in this weird place of fairytales come true that he has been frozen as a statue and won't ever return. Moving around the couch, she sits down on the coffee table and takes off her hat and gloves before reaching out to stroke her fingers along Henry's cheek, having to make sure he is real and still breathing.

"What else can we do?" she asks Snow, her voice steady again, but her eyes plaintively begging her mother to have the answers.

"Here," Snow offers, pulling a small jar of some sort of salve from the pocket of the apron she is wearing. "Rub this on his throat, chest, and back. I found it in the back of a cupboard the other day, oddly enough. I swear it's the same poultice I used once on Charming in the Enchanted Forest. He stayed out hunting for food so long that when he finally came back, I was afraid he might lose fingers and toes to frostbite."

Emma arches a brow doubtfully, but takes the container and unscrews the lid. Anticipating her unerringly, as he often does, Killian kneels beside the couch next to her and lifts Henry's torso to a sitting position so she can rub the concoction over his throat and chest, then switches places with her so she can lather the stuff on Henry's back as well. They work effortlessly and silently together, completely focused on Henry, and so miss the knowing look Charming and Snow exchange at the obvious manifestation of the strength of their partnership.

At first, as Emma sits back and puts the lid back on the jar, she wonders what good it has done. Then, as she watches Killian carefully making sure that Henry is lying comfortably and completely tucked back under the covers, she begins to feel tingling and then heat spreading over the hand she used to spread the salve. Her mouth drops open a bit in shock, and her eyes fly to her mother's for an instant, until she is even more happily startled to hear Henry mumble something incoherently and curl up more in his sleep. It isn't much, but the sound and movement are enough to make her pulse race with joy and hope. Glancing up to find Killian's eyes, he nods to her encouragingly, allowing her to take the sign for good when his mouth quirks into a tentative half smile.

Emma is pleased that her parents stay for some time after this, making supper, forcing first Killian, and then her, to get warm showers and then change into dry clothes themselves. She hates to leave Henry's side for even a second, but seeing the loving, devoted look on Snow's face as she takes Emma's seat, Emma heads for the bathroom with the image of Snow lightly sifting fingers through her grandson's hair. She can't stop the pang that shoots through her chest for an instant at the piercing reminder of what she missed growing up: a mother who would have cared for her like that any time she had been sick or hurt.

As she comes out of the shower in baggy grey sweatpants and a black tank, still toweling her hair dry, she nearly runs into Killian standing nervously in her room, obviously awaiting a moment to speak with her alone. Despite his seeming anxiousness, he looks as appealing as always to her. His dark hair is mussed in places and standing up wildly, as if he hasn't combed it after his own shower. He is wearing a simple, white V-neck men's undershirt and faded, holey blue jeans without shoes. Though she realizes that in some ways the magnetic pull of her attraction to him is what started this all in the first place, she can't help going to him, sinking into his embrace, and burying her face in his chest. Though the fresh smell of soap is on him, the spicy scent that is simply him – perhaps the mix of rum, leather, and the salt of ocean air and seawater – is incredibly comforting now, as she breathes it in and relishes the fact that he is here to hold and steady her when she needs him most. Her exhaustion and continued worry weigh her and cause her to melt against his body.

"Emma lass," he finally begins, his voice rough, yet soft, almost raspy with emotion. Stroking a hand through her hair, he finally makes himself go on. "I can't help feeling that much of what happened today was my fault. Henry felt I betrayed him, and he may never accept me if he feels that I'm keeping you apart from Baelfire."

Emma looks up into his bright, blue eyes, now appearing more stormy and conflicted than like the peaceful view of the morning sky over the sea that they usually seem. She's nothing if not quick on the uptake, and she swallows hard, fearing that he is about to do something she can't bear for what he thinks is her own good. "Killian, this isn't your fault…" she sucks in a shaky breath to continue, but before she can go on, he speaks up.

"Please, Love, let me get this out," he pleads earnestly, eyes latching onto hers and holding tight. "Once, long ago, I helped to separate a child and his mother, and I won't have a part in something like that again. _I won't. _ I love you too much – love Henry too much – to cause either of you pain just to selfishly keep you near."

Tears well in her eyes as Emma watches her pirate struggle to let them both go, to do the right thing, even if it kills him. He is nobler, more heroic, than he will ever give himself credit for, and she loves him for it, though she can't bear to think of doing as he says. She reaches up her hands, cradling his face between them, pulling him in closer to her and making sure he hears her clearly. "Killian, please…don't pull away from me now. I won't survive it. You made me let you in, and now I can't let you go. Other than Henry, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. _You _are the one always telling me to believe, to trust that everything will be okay. Now I need you to do the same."

She holds on, not blinking, barely breathing, until finally he nods in assent. "Aye, Love, I can do that. You're right. We'll find a way."

"Thank you," she whispers, sagging against him in relief and letting him pull her close and rub her back soothingly.

"No Emma, thank you, for caring for me so much," he replies, kissing the top of her head and never wanting to let go. "I only wished to do right by you, but I will gladly stay by your side for as long as you'll have me."

Finally, reluctantly, they part and hand-in-hand they walk back into the living room. Killian settles in the recliner by the fire, watching over Henry and Emma as she and her parents say their goodbyes. David gives Killian a handshake which turns into a one-armed hug, and Snow crosses the room to hug him warmly, whispering her thanks as well for all that he has done.

Once they are gone, Emma comes back to the end of the couch and perches lightly, making sure Henry's feet are covered and looking over him, drinking in the sight as he seems to rest peacefully and finally begins to believe that Henry will be okay. Her eyes begin to flutter closed sleepily and her head nods several times, the emotion and exertion of the past several hours completely catching up with her.

Killian's warm, rumbling voice brings her out of her third doze in as many minutes, easing and coaxing her to look at him. "Come on, Love," he murmurs, quirking one of his expressive dark eyebrows at her and opening his arms. She shakes her head for a moment at the silliness of the action, then slips off the couch, across the room, and curls up in his lap. "He's going to be fine," Killian murmurs, gently rocking, kissing her forehead, and wrapping his arms around her. "He'll be okay now. We all will."

She nods against his chest, feeling warm, comforted, and safe. Killian's soft words in her ear and the soothing feel of his strong hands on her skin ease her mind, and this time when her eyes drift closed, she lets them go, confident in his constant awareness even when he rests, that she and Henry are safe with him tonight.

~~~**/vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv/**~~~~

Waking the next morning, Emma is roused from sleep by a small hand shaking her shoulders and Henry's voice whispering urgently, "Mom, Mom!" She blinks groggily a few times, wiping sleep from her eyes and realizing that she is still cuddled in the gentle cocoon of Killian's body, his arms still holding her securely, making sure she won't fall, even as his beautiful, kissable lips have fallen partially open in sleep and he lets out the lightest, most adorable of snores. Grinning, she realizes that everyone she loves is safe and sound again for this Christmas morning, and it's the closest thing to a miracle she can imagine. Turning a beaming face to her son, she cups his face in her hands and pulls him in to plant a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. "Henry! I'm glad you're awake! What do you need? Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, Mom," Henry answers, "I'm fine now." He bites his lip and his brow crinkles seriously for a moment, looking incredibly thoughtful and adult. He stares down at his feet, back at her, and then adds. "I need to say I'm sorry, Mom…I was afraid out there last night. I shouldn't have said those things to you – or to Killian – and I shouldn't have run out like that. I put us all in danger."

Emma is shaking her head before he can even finish, pulling him into a hug and assuring him that he has nothing to be sorry for, that they should have told him sooner. After a couple of long, healing moments, Henry pulls back and gives her one of his impish, playful grins. "So, can I give you my present right now?" he asks slyly.

She grins as well, caught up in the mischievous mood that has taken over Henry, and agrees.

"We have to wake up Killian. It's for him too," Henry instructs.

Emma turns in his lap and shakes Killian's shoulders lightly. "Wake up, Sleepyhead!" she prods jokingly. "It's Christmas!"

Killian blinks his long, luxurious lashes several times, coming back to the land of the living as slowly as she had. But then he sees those two precious faces – those he now considers his family – both looking at him expectantly and he sits up, happy to see them both looking so well and allowing him to be there with them. "What is it?" he asked curiously, his voice deep and husky from just waking and looking so sleepily disheveled that it is all Emma can do not to start kissing him again, even in front of Henry.

Then Henry is grinning widely at them again and bouncing on the balls of his feet eagerly with his secret. "Here," he says, leaning in and holding something up above their heads. Almost giggling, he seems so pleased with himself, Henry says, "I'm sorry I didn't get it at first, and sorry for the way I acted. I think I understand now. And I'm happy for you. You both deserve your happy ending. Look up!"

Casting their eyes up, Emma and Killian see that Henry is holding a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. Emma doesn't know where he can have gotten it, how exactly he came to change his mind so suddenly from yesterday, but she decides not to question it and instead to simply be grateful.

"Are you sure?" she whispers to her son, studying him closely, trying to be sure to detect any feeling he might be hiding. "I don't want you to feel left out, or angry, or hurt, or ignored, or –"

"Mom!" Henry laughs, interrupting her with a shake of his head, "I promise! Now, Merry Christmas…" He nudges her, nods toward Killian, and then takes a step back.

Emma finally allows her eyes to drift back to her roguish, loving, incredible pirate captain and really take him in.

"Let's do as the boy says, Love," Killian whispers low, his decadent voice almost a purr of seduction.

Blushing in spite of herself, Emma nods, and their lips meet in a chaste, sweet kiss that still makes her heart race, her lips tingle, her toes curl, and somehow feels like a promise: that all this good really can be hers, and it is going to last. She pulls back reluctantly, bringing Henry into her arms as well as holding onto Killian, wanting both of her True Loves in her grasp. The happiness and love that swells inside her at this moment trumps anything Emma has experienced in her life, and she feels tears of joy streaming from her eyes. It is their own little bit of magic, and in truth, the holidays have never before been so warm and bright.


End file.
